


Wardrobes

by Daerwyn



Series: A Collection of A Song of Ice and Fire Drabbles [9]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Naked Female Clothed Male, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 05:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11269071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daerwyn/pseuds/Daerwyn
Summary: The Reader is reading with Oberyn's shirt on."Wait... is that my shirt?"Originally posted on my Tumblr - DaenerysKhalasar





	Wardrobes

Lounging on your private terrace, a light read digging into your knee, you let the sun bronze your skin. You wore nothing a proper lady was intended to wear. But you did not need to in this spot. This was one place you didn’t have to conform to any rules, or play any games. So you wore a shirt that barely reached mid-thigh, something you suspected would not be on you long with the return of your husband in a few hours.

As you turned the page of your book, you could hear the sound of the wind rustling the trees that provided just enough shade to cover your eyes. A storm sounded as though it was approaching, as the wind had grown steadily harsher through the last few hours. Now, the pages would flicker around with each gust, and you would have to patiently wait for it to ease before you resumed reading.

You paid no mind to the shirt exposing more of yourself to the sun’s glow.

“If a beauty such as yourself is going to hide so little, then do not hide at all.” You didn’t jump, but you were a tad startled. You did not hear him enter your quarters.

“That is your job, my Lord Oberyn.” You hid a grin as you turned yet another page. “To dress me or undress me however you’d like. You’re back early. Your brother not in desperate of a need of you as he had thought?”

“No, perhaps tomorrow.” He approached, his feet scraping against the ground almost inaudibly. And he sat at your feet, taking them into his lap. “The Histories of Westeros,” he read aloud. “And what is it you hope to learn, my love?”

You glanced up. “I just had hoped to pass the time. Whatever I learned would be forgotten throughout the night anyway.”

Oberyn narrowed his eyes in an agreeing way. But then he tilted his head slightly. “Wait… Is that my shirt?”

“Yes,” you replied honestly, showing him a grin now without need to hide it. “I had hoped you would notice.”

“It’s very becoming on you…” Oberyn’s palm slid up your leg, making desire stir in your belly. Once it reached your thigh, you swallowed, your eyes watching it without any desire to turn your eyes away. “You should wear it more often.”

“I shall remember that, love.” He hummed in agreement.

His hands plucked the book from your own, and tossed it aside, not seeming to care what state it landed itself in. And then he shifted, so that he hovered over your legs and his face was mere inches away from your own. A gust of wind blew your shirt, well, his shirt, up past your waist, and Oberyn’s eyes darkened in hunger.

“Allow me to show you how appreciative I am of your new taste in wardrobe, my love,” Oberyn murmured.

You swallowed back a moan. “Absolutely, my lord. Anything to convince me to sneak them from your trunk and wear them more often.”

And convince you he did. Though there was very little use for the shirt once his hands and tongue began to roam.


End file.
